I Don't Recognize You
by SweetSpells
Summary: Dumbledore is dead, and the wizarding world is on the brink of war...Hermione Granger is the only one of the Golden Trio who returns to Hogwarts for her final year. Little does she know that this year holds great turmoil for her. Read on.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: So Much Has Changed…

It was a lovely September morning. The birds in the trees were chirping vigorously and those that took to the skies exercised their vocal muscles in a very conspicuous manner too. On the ground, a gigantic red train roared its way over the fields and meadows of England, passing into Scotland. This train was called the Hogwarts Express, and the people in the train were wizards and witches that were going to their school, the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for another year. On first sight, the rhythm of the train and the beautiful scenery would suggest gaiety and happiness for the boarders of the train; however, a closer look revealed otherwise.

All of the compartment doors were closed, many of them with locking charms on them (except for those of the first-years, who as yet did not know how to perform such spells) and there was a waft of unmistakable tension in the air. They couldn't be blamed: after all, it was only a few months ago that they had received the startling, horrifying, and depressing news that Albus Dumbledore, commonly regarded as the most powerful wizard on earth and the only person that Lord Voldemort had ever feared, had been killed by none other than Professor Snape, teacher of Potions at Hogwarts. The wizarding world had been plunged into the highest fear and uncertainty, and now that school was reopening….

Hermione Granger walked in the passageway, her robes billowing behind her, her gaze fixed, her air confident. An aura of authority and will surrounded her, probably due to the fact that her hand was constantly on the wand that was in her pocket. She peered into the compartments that she passed, checking them, making sure that the students were safe and also that they were not doing anything dangerous. She did not need to worry: all of the students were sitting firmly in their seats, hands in their laps, sometimes fidgeting and all with deadly serious looks on their faces. _No Weasley twins this year_, Hermione thought to herself, grimly. _No fun, no jokes, no tricks. Hogwarts is changed now. Steel yourself_, she told herself hastily, to stop the tears that were threatening to flow. _You're ready for this. You've been ready for this._

The truth was, Hermione missed Hogwarts as it had been before, and the way people would laugh and joke on the Express, looking forward to a new year. The happiness, the food, the… Hearing a sound, she spun around, whipping her wand out for an attack if necessary, and lowered it promptly – it was the lady selling sweets on the train.

"Horrible business," the lady muttered. "No one wants to buy anything, afraid that it would blow them up or something. Doing spells on my food and jinxing them to check for dark magic, you would think that I was You-Know-Who in disguise!"

"We're all scared," Hermione said, reassuringly. "It's really – "

She was cut off by a loud noise that sounded as if something very heavy had just been dropped on the ground. Turning immediately and again with wand at the ready, she spotted a large black object on the floor in front of her. She was just about to throw a freezing spell at it when the 'thing' raised itself from the floor and started talking. With a breath of relief, Hermione saw that it was Neville Longbottom.

"Neville!" she said, pocketing her wand for the second time. "What are you doing?"

"I – I was just about to buy some – some food," Neville stammered out. "But I changed my – my mind." He vanished back into the compartment and Hermione sighed. She just wished everything could be back to normal – but then, there was never anything normal in the wizarding world.

After the train arrived at Hogwarts, they hurried into the castle and sat down for the opening feast. It was strange to see Professor McGonagall sitting in the same seat that Professor Dumbledore had possessed for all the years that she had attended Hogwarts. As she scanned the Great Hall, she realized that the Slytherins were in record few numbers – a flash of hatred passed over her face as she noted that most of them had left to join their master, the Dark Lord. Suddenly angry, she willed herself to listen to McGonagall's amazingly calm speech and encouraging words. All of the students were in low spirits, but when the delectable food appeared, even the most pessimistic were forced to brighten up. Suddenly, an owl swooped down from the far end of the Great Hall and dropped a letter in Hermione's lap. Curious, she tore off the envelope and read:

Dear Hermione,

As you will be the Head Girl for this school year, there are some housekeeping things to take care of in advance. Please see me directly after dinner in my office.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Smiling, Hermione pocketed the letter and continued eating, chatting occasionally with the now-happier Gryffindors but mostly simply listening to the other students' conversations. Over the summer she had grown more reserved, studying advanced magic almost feverishly and putting up wards around her house and protection charms on her loved ones. She was back at Hogwarts with more knowledge of magic than ever before, already past NEWT level before the school year had even begun. The summer had also held sad occurrences that brought tears of worry to her eyes – Harry and Ron were gone.

Indeed, her two best friends had decided that they would go on the hunt for Voldemort themselves, search for the last Horcruxes, and destroy the Dark Lord once and for all. Part of their plan was to let Hermione stay behind and go back to Hogwarts in order to keep an eye on the day-to-day wizarding world affairs and inform them when new information came up. Hermione knew, however, that Harry and Ron really wanted Hogwarts to remain in operation – and Hermione's presence, with her incredible store of defensive magic that she had garnered over the summer, soothed their worries about very possible attacks on their school. That was how Hermione came to be the only Head Student in charge of patrolling and other duties; Harry had been chosen as Head Boy, but since he was on a mission and no one else seemed qualified or willing to take on his role, it remained vacant, and the Head Girl was to take on both of their responsibilities, which, presumably, were what McGonagall wanted to talk to her about.

After dinner, she hurried to the Headmistress's office, where the gargoyle demanded the password.

"Uh – sherbet lemon." The gargoyle shook its head.

"Let's see – Bernie's Every Flavored – oh, it's McGonagall! Of course she wouldn't – duh! Transfiguration!" she said hopefully, and was promptly rewarded with a vigorous shaking of the head. "Animagus!" she tried again. Again, she was denied entrance.

"I would try '' if I were you, Miss Granger," came a voice from behind her, and she turned to find the smiling Headmistress. "Come in."

The first thing that Hermione noticed in the Head Office was that Dumbledore's portrait was hanging on the wall along with the other Headmasters of Hogwarts. It was smiling, his half-moon glasses twinkling with an unknown source of light. A surge of emotion filled Hermione as she contemplated this picture and felt more strongly than ever what a loss to the wizarding society Dumbledore's death had been. With his passing, the wizarding community was more vulnerable to Deatheaters' attacks than ever before, and attacks would be inevitable…

"These are your duties as Head Girl and the only Head Student this year," McGonagall began. "You will attend all your classes as usual with your classmates, but you will be required to patrol the grounds from ten to midnight every day. You will also be required to be a model of excellent behavior to your fellow students – but that would not be a problem. Oh, you get your own dormitory too. Follow me."

McGonagall led an excited Hermione to a portrait of a goblin on a wall not far from Gryffindor Tower. The goblin bowed and the Headmistress said briskly, "Honeysuckle stems." The portrait swung open and Hermione gasped, for they had entered the most beautifully furnished common room Hermione had ever seen. Every article of furniture was deep and rich in color and exceptionally inviting, to say the least. There was a warm fire crackling in the fireplace, several couches throughout the room, and soft lights hung from chandeliers. It was breathtaking.

"Since Mr. Potter is not with us, you shall be the only occupant of this joint dormitory. Your room is to the left and the Head Boy's quarters are to the right, if you ever decide to use it for any purpose. The password, again, is 'Honeysuckle stems.' Good night, Miss Granger." At the door, she paused and added, "Your patrolling duties begin tonight. Enjoy your day." With a swish of her cloak, McGonagall was gone, and Hermione was left to run up to her bedroom, where her suitcases had already arrived. The two hours that remained until her patrol time were spent in unpacking and singing to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: An Old Enemy

As the clock struck eleven times, the moonbeams found Hermione walking around the Hogwarts grounds, breathing in the crisp air and relaxing herself. Wondering how much longer she could keep enjoying the peace and quiet of Hogwarts, before Voldemort could amass his forces for another strike at the wizarding world…sighing, she turned on the path and followed the edge of the lake. On her left was the Forbidden Forest, dark and menacing as always, and on her right was the unnaturally calm surface of the sleeping lake. It's almost like a mirror, Hermione thought to herself as she stopped and looked into the depths of the water, studying her reflection and smiling sadly at her herself. Where could Harry and Ron –

Crack.

The noise split the night calm and pumped adrenaline through Hermione's veins in a fraction of a second as she spun around, pulling her wand out of her pocket and pointing it at the looming trees that faced her in all their grotesque and mysterious beauty. The sound had come from those trees – she had been certain of that – but she could not see anything, for the moon had gone to hide behind the clouds. "Lumos," she whispered, and a light came on at the tip of her wand. Hesitatingly, she took a step forward into the shadows. The darkness seemed to be an almost tangible curtain of black velvet in front of her, sucking up the light from the wand; Hermione took a gulp of air and stood there, her senses sharpened and alert. Her first patrol as Head Girl and something dark was already lurking in the shadows. Swallowing hard, she took another step forward and whispered, "Who's there?" Instantly she berated herself for giving out a sound. Had she learned nothing from the DA or Harry? _Harry….if only he were here…_she could remember being in the same location with him in third year, but this wasn't a dementor, but then, what –

CRACK.

Her thoughts were broken off abruptly as this noise, much closer, came out of the blackness in front of her. Almost panicking, Hermione raised her wand and was about to throw all the hexes she knew at the trees when a call sounded.

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione spun around to find Professor McGonagall in emerald green robes striding towards her from the castle. She could hear noises retreating into the forest, but she could see nothing when she turned back; meanwhile, the Headmistress had reached her.

"Miss Granger, I suggest that you do not venture into the Forbidden Forest just yet. It is dangerous in there…as you probably know already." A stern smile appeared on her face and Hermione was reminded of the many time she had been in the Forest – of course, breaking the rules savagely in the process. She smiled back tentatively, a light blush creeping into her cheeks. They reached the castle without speaking again, and by the time they reached the great doors, Hermione was in agony. Should she tell McGonagall about the noises that she had heard, or was she merely being paranoid? Thus debating with herself, she did not notice where they were going until they stopped in front of the portrait of the goblin. No, there was no way she could burden McGonagall with yet another sign of danger that might not even be consequential…but the dark Forest and its whispers invaded her dreams that night.

The next morning, she woke up and took a long, hot shower, then hurried down to the Great Hall for breakfast with the rest of the Gryffindors. Glancing around, she noted that the students were far more relaxed this morning than they had been the previous one, but that the Slytherins seemed to be even more anxious and jittery than usual. _They know something's up_, she thought to herself. _Even since their leader Malfoy disappeared…_Hermione had not told anyone, but she sincerely thought that Draco Malfoy had been innocent – Harry had seen him falter at the moment of truth, and he had been dragged out of the castle by Snape – but no one would have believed her if she had told anybody of this conviction, and she was not about to jeopardize her position at Hogwarts by declaring her belief in the innocence of a person who was practically universally denounced as a dark and evil creature and moreover feared by all the Hogwarts students. Still, she was not about to complain: his absence meant the absence of the jeers, the smirks and the taunts that had plagued Harry, Ron and her for the past six years. But then, everything had changed….Harry and Ron were no longer there either…

After breakfast, they hurried to Potions with Slughorn, where Hermione took her usual front row seat, determined to show the rest of the school that no matter what dark magic was brewing outside the castle, the classes inside would carry on in the same fashion. The rest of the day went by fast enough, and soon she found herself walking out of the Great Hall after dinner straight to her dorm, where she worked on her homework (even the first day of classes were bound to finish with homework assignments). At exactly ten o'clock she strolled down to the grounds for her nightly patrol. The memories of the previous night flooded back to her and she slowed down as she approached the spot where she had heard the cracking noises the night before. Hermione had almost convinced herself, during the day, that the noises had originated from a branch snapping. But as she came closer to the same place, her heart pounded and she could feel her senses heightening. After ascertaining that there were no more alarming noises from the Forest, she turned and walked toward the lake.

Right behind her, someone cleared his throat.

Hermione screamed and spun around to confront an unidentifiable creature in the moonlight, which on a second look revealed itself to be a human, caked in dirt and dried blood and dressed in tattered rags. At first she was absolutely convinced that she was facing a werewolf, but it was not the full moon, so that wasn't it…as the creature took a step forward, she screamed again, louder, but all the spells she had learnt went flying out of her head as the terror jumped in and paralysed her. Finally rousing her legs enough, she turned and started running, but a hand suddenly shot out from the creature and grabbed her, swiftly pinning her to a tree. Hermione thought she was going to die as she stared up into the face of the person that was holding her prisoner, speechless, terror radiating from every pore in her body and mind blank of spells. When she was already wondering why she was not dead, the person shook back his dirty, matted hair and Hermione could see that he had bluish-silver eyes that bored through her. A flash of realization came over her, and she stammered,

"Dra – Malfoy?"

He stepped back from her and dropped his hands; Hermione shoved him away, anger and fear building up within her, and pointed her wand at him, shaking.

"Son of a bitch," she murmured just before hurling a binding hex at him. Malfoy did not even flinch as the ropes curled themselves around him; he simply looked at her – a chill ran down Hermione's spine. If only he would say something…and then he did.

"H – help me," he croaked dryly.

It did not sound like Malfoy's voice at all; it was pleading and his eyes looked searchingly into hers.

"Please," he added softly.

Hermione stared at him, mistrust overtaking her, yet a strong protective feeling surfaced within as she let her eyes run over his cut and grimy body. Vainly trying to repress this, she could only lash out at him.

"Did you think you could trick me into taking you back to the castle, Malfoy?" she asked with a sneer. "You – you killed Dumbledore, you foul, loathsome creature…if your so-called 'friends' could see you now, the proud, wonderful PUREBLOODED Draco Malfoy, how they would laugh…my, my, you look a sight..." She levitated him into the air and saw a flash of something so akin to hurt in his eyes that she almost dropped her wand. "McGonagall's going to deal with you," she said, walking back to the castle with him floating behind her.

"Granger, you don't understand," he said urgently. "I'm not – I'm not on the Dark Side – "

"Yeah right Malfoy, tell that to the Minister of Magic, I bet he'll believe you." With a bitter laugh, she added, "Maybe if it were Fudge, always influenced by your pureblood daddy, but Scrimgeour's not that daft, and anyway, your dear sweet daddy isn't here anymore, is he now, Malfoy? No one here to protect you – think about that."

"I just escaped from them! From the Deatheaters – why won't you believe me, Granger? I managed to escape the Dark Lord and you want to hand me over to Scrimgeour? This is serious, I swear I'm not lying – "

"Will you shut up! As if we all didn't know who you are, who your parents are – "

"You know nothing," he told her, furious. "I'm not like my parents. If I were I would have killed you tonight or last night. But I didn't, did I? I need help, I'm not a Deatheater and I never was! Believe me, I never wanted Dumbledore to die, I loved the man, I never wanted to leave Hogwarts with that pile of filth – "

"You didn't touch me because you knew you had no chance," Hermione retorted, but she could not help a slight feeling of discomfort from creeping into her mind. It was true; he could have killed her, she had been vulnerable to attack, petrified by terror…but he hadn't.

"All I need is some food, I haven't eaten in two days, and a bath, and then I'll just – I don't know, go away or something. They think I'm dead. I'll just leave and start a new life somewhere else, but don't turn me in for something I didn't do and that I would have given my life to prevent." Glaring at her impassive countenance, he added, in a voice of soft venom, "You're enjoying this immensely, aren't you Granger?"

Unable to stop a sly smile from forming on her lips, she answered, "More than I can say."

Meanwhile, they had reached the castle gates, where Hermione paused and looked at Malfoy, a new resolution forming in her mind.

"I'll give you some food and a bath, Malfoy," she told him. "Then you will tell me your entire story with no embellishments, and I'll decide what to do with you. It's life or death, Malfoy…think carefully." After a moment she added, "I still hate you with every fiber of my being."

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual," he replied, and she thought she saw the infamous Malfoy smirk on his face, underneath the blood and the dirt. "I haven't eaten in two days, and I'm starving."

"And stinking."

There was almost a smile on his face as they entered the gates of Hogwarts.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Settling Down

"Are you sure you can sneak me in?" he asked her quietly as they ascended a side staircase.

"No worries, I can roam the hallways as I wish because I'm Head Girl now. Gotta use the power I got, wouldn't you agree, Malfoy?"

There was a devilish smirk on his face as he replied, "Getting a little rebellious now, are we, perfect little know-it-all Granger?"

"You forgot mudblood," she said, almost unconsciously. She heard him give a quiet, grim laugh.

"Yeah, mudblood, my father's favorite term – but oh, I forgot, my father tried to kill me, that's right," he said bitterly. "You're saving my life, Granger, and I'm not an ungrateful beast." Flabbergasted, Hermione stared at him, then shook her head and went on without a word. Malfoy was no longer Malfoy if he was that bitter about his father, that much was certain – but how could she know that he was not just a consummate actor? After all, he had been the most sought-after boy in sixth year; girls swooned around him and had severe cases of hyperventilation when he even spoke to them, with his silvery eyes, slicked-back blond hair, well-built, though light figure, strong jaw, seductive looks….one could go on forever about the ladies' man qualities of Draco Malfoy. And yet he had never let his heart be taken, even though many girls had claimed that he had been in love with them. You could never tell with Malfoy; girls who had been lucky enough to obtain a date with him never recovered from it, telling of a constant thrill and unlimited imagination on his part.

The hallways were deserted, and the two passed quickly through them, watching out for prefects, teachers, and Filch. Just as they were turning the corner of the hallway that would lead to the Room of Requirement and safety, they heard rapid footsteps approaching from a side passage, unnaturally loud in the deathly quiet of midnight.

"Quick!" Hermione hissed, pushing Malfoy behind a statue just in time, for the next moment, Filch emerged from the dark passage – and to her relief, without Mrs. Norris at his heels. The cat would surely have sniffed out Malfoy's location immediately, and Hermione trembled to think of what would have ensued. Filch passed by her without even a move of greeting or even recognition, which the Head Girl was grateful for, but he must have seen the guilty look on her face, for he stopped, turned back, and confronted her.

"What have you been doing?" he growled menacingly. Hermione tried to keep her countenance as she replied,

"Nothing, just patrolling," she replied, controlling the quaver in her voice and seeming confident about her role in the middle of a deserted corridor at midnight. "I'm Head Girl," she reminded him hopefully. "I'm allowed to – " She instinctively stopped and stepped backwards as Filch moved closer to her; she could feel the statue pressing into her back; feverishly praying that Malfoy would have enough common sense to stay as still as possible. He need not have worried on this point. The caretaker sniffed the air suspiciously, and Hermione was forcefully reminded of a certain resemblance to his mangy cat.

"Why do you smell funny?" he asked warily. "You been rolling around in dirt or something?" His voice almost indicated a challenge for her to come up with a plausible excuse, and Hermione had begun talking before she knew what she was saying.

"I, uh, confiscated a dung bomb and then I met a flubberworm and it swallowed the dungbomb and it started burrowing into the ground so I went after it and it exploded so – "

BOOM.

The floor shook and they grabbed the wall for support, hearing a loud, cackling burst of laughter from the floor above. It was obvious that the perpetrator had to be –

"PEEVES!" Filch roared and hurried off down the hallway, leaving Hermione behind. "I'll KILL you this time, you little – little POLTERGEIST!"

Silently shaking with laughter and relief, Hermione watched as he disappeared into the darkness. Malfoy stepped out from behind the suit of statue and burst out into laughter too.

"A flubberworm that ate a Dungbomb?" he managed to choke out. Turning bright red, Hermione muttered, "Whatever," and walked on while the still chuckling Malfoy followed.

"Y'know, Granger, I never asked – where exactly are we going?"

"The Room of Requirement of course, where else?" she said in her usual know-it-all tone. "You can't be safe anywhere else in the castle."

As they approached the Room of Requirement, however, they found the area roped off and a distinct aura of magic around it.

"What?" she exclaimed, exasperated. "What's wrong with the Room of Requirement?" Getting closer to the shimmering rope, she read a sign that hung from it: 'Due to past occurrences, this room will be closed to all students. This is final, and any student attempting to enter will meet with highly unpleasant consequences.'

"Well," Hermione said. "It's final." She turned to Malfoy. "I guess we can't put you anywhere, so – "

"I'll leave now, there's no – "

"Wait," she said, suddenly remembering something. "You don't have to go – you can – " She looked at him thoughtfully. "I don't trust you, Malfoy," she told him finally, "but I'm not going to let you out of the castle if you really are innocent. Follow me."

She led him through passageways and doors to the Heads' dormitory, where she whispered "Honeysuckle tears" and entered the common room.

"Where are we?" Malfoy asked, looking around at the cozy room.

"A place you will never again enter if you don't go and take a long bath right now," Hermione replied coolly, and Malfoy chuckled. "Point taken," he said, and disappeared into the bathroom that she pointed out.

About an hour later, after Hermione had changed into her pajamas and was ensconced on the couch in front of the fireplace, reading a book, Draco Malfoy stepped out of the bathroom and as he closed the door behind him, she turned and started to say something, but stopped instantly. Indeed, Hermione had no choice but to gape. He only had a towel on around his waist, and the rest of his extremely well-built body was up for display. She could not stop herself from shivering as she ran her eyes over his muscular chest and arms, lean and hard from months of living in the wild. She remembered that he had been lithe as a Quidditch seeker for the Slytherin team the year before, but after his apparent ordeal, his muscles were as if from a dream…she noted the scars on him, and then brought her eyes up to his clean face, shaved and framed by shaggy long white-blond hair that fell carelessly into his silvery gray eyes. Except for those eyes he was almost unrecognisable from her memories of him…after a few moments of restrained admiration, his voice brought her back to reality.

"Like what you see, Granger?" he asked her with the ultimate smirk on his face. Hermione noticed that his voice was no longer dry and raspy but low and enticing. Feeling her own throat go dry, she managed to answer nonchalantly.

"Dream on, Malfoy."

Ignoring her comment, he went on. "Much as I would like to dazzle you with my incredible physique, I can't keep wearing a towel forever. Are there any clothes around?"

"In the Head Boy's room, maybe, go look."

She watched him as he turned and walked into the Head Boy's room. Minutes later, he emerged, dressed in black pajamas and black slippers, with a few buttons loose so that just enough of his chest was revealed for Hermione to feel uncomfortable. He was holding a piece of wood in his hand that uncannily looked like –

"My wand, Malfoy," she snapped, standing up, defenses on alert, mind racing. Would he use it to hex her? How could she escape fast enough to get help? How could she have been so stupid as to let him in? Her thought must have shown on her face, for Malfoy smiled and walked over to her as she backed up so that he had her backed up against the wall, fiercely terrified and uncomfortably conscious of his smoky woods-after-rain scent.

"I'm not going to hex you," he said and pressed the wand into her hand while stepping away from her. Saying that Hermione was astonished would be an understatement, for she simply stared at Malfoy, speechless, as he smirked at her shocked expression. "No need to gape, Granger," he said. "I know I'm absolutely irresistible, but just wait until I get some food in my body – can you get me something to eat? Please?" he added as he saw her chocolate brown eyes flashing. Hermione waved her hand in the direction of the fireplace.

"Just call for some food, the dorm is connected to the kitchen. And I don't want any, just to let you know."

"Who said I was going to get you any food in the first place?"

"You're so – ugh!" With those words, she walked over to the couch and sank down on it, folding her legs up and picking up her book again as Malfoy called for sandwiches, fruit, dessert, and lastly, firewhiskey.

"Students aren't allowed to drink alcohol – " she protested, but Malfoy simply smiled and carried the silver tray over to the couch, setting it down on the coffee table in front of the fireplace and seating himself next to Hermione.

"No worries," he said breezily before he started on the food with all his table manners intact, painstakingly lifting every morsel to his mouth before Hermione, exasperated and giggling at the ridiculous display, told him, "Devor the food, Malfoy. I can see you're dying to gobble it all up." There was only time for a smile before he tore into the food with the ferocity of a panther while Hermione continued reading. After he was done with the meal, he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. "I should have come back earlier just for the food," he said, content. "And now – " He poured out two glasses of firewhiskey. "Now we can celebrate my return to civilization. Cheers." He handed Hermione a glass, but she refused to take it.

"I don't drink, Malfoy," she said resolutely.

"Oh, come on now, Granger, I know there's something more to you than the perfect little girl you show to the rest of the world. Just one glass, nothing more." His voice was low and persuasive, and she could feel her determination faltering, but she held firm and shook her head.

"Fine, I'll finish it off by myself then," he said, a little disappointed it seemed. Unconsciously, his arm draped over the back of the couch around Hermione so that she felt an almost overpowering desire to lean her head on his shoulder. Hurriedly, she stood up to prevent herself.

"I'm going to bed, Malfoy," she said, a little more sharply than she had intended. "You can sleep in the Head Boy's room, it's vacant." Seeing his puzzled look, she added, "Harry's Head Boy, and he's not gonna be here tonight, so you can stay." At the mention of Harry's name, Malfoy tensed up, and she could see that he still hated the Boy-Who-Lived.

She climbed the stairs to her room, but before she could get there, he called out, "I bet the Weasel would love to be here…so close to Granger – and in his own room too. Pity they gave it to Scarhead, but then again – "

"I'm warning you ferret – " she began, seething.

"Good night, Granger," he said, and Hermione could tell that he was unsatisfied, but why, she could not tell.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Electricity

The next morning, Hermione woke up feeling exceptionally refreshed. Yawning, she got out of bed slowly and went to her closet, where she pulled out a tight white blouse and a really short black skirt. Normally the old Hermione Granger would never have tight-fitting clothes or short skirts in her wardrobe, but she had changed over the summer. While she was studying ancient spells and carrying out dangerous experiments, she had begun, without knowing why, to think about physical beauty, and on discovering that she possessed a natural sweetness of expression and a pretty face, she started to improve her looks by outside means. Taming her bushy hair had become a first priority, and she soon discovered the blessing of hair straighteners and curlers. In addition, she had gotten blonde highlights, and working out at the gym had made her body lithe and slim. Adding all of this to her impressive store of eye shadow, eyeliner, lipstick, powder, cold cream, and, most importantly, completely revolutionized and sexy wardrobe made her fit to be a supermodel. Hermione had changed, but inside she was still the same bookworm as she had ever been, spending hours on end studying and reading thick, dusty volumes salvaged from the shelves of Madame Pince's library.

This particular morning, Hermione had straightened her hair, put on her makeup, and sprayed some perfume on herself when the events of the night before came flooding back to her. Immediately she leapt from her dressing table and ran to the door that separated her from the Head Boy's room, where she put her ear to the wood and listened intently. There was no sound from the other room, and she pushed the door open softly, gliding in. A quick glance showed her that there was no one in the room as far as she could see; the bed was messy, but that was all that showed someone had slept there the night before.

"Crap!" she yelled, angry with herself. She should not have let him stay, especially since there were no binding spells to lock him in, she had forgotten all about them, and everything had just been a huge mistake, he was probably at large in the castle right then, it was all her fault and –

"Looking for me, Granger?" The voice sounded highly amused, and Hermione spun around to see Malfoy standing beside the door to the staircase, looking like nothing had happened and clad in silver robes that brought out his eyes. Indifferently, he ran his hand through his hair and made an expression of annoyance. "Ugh, I really need to get a haircut somehow, my hair's always getting in my way."

Before Hermione could stop herself, she had already blurted out, "Don't cut it, it looks better like this – I mean," she said, instantly slapping herself mentally for that slip and for blushing after it, "this way, if anyone in the school sees you by any chance, they won't be able to recognize you – so that's why you shouldn't cut it!"

Malfoy laughed quietly. "I heard you, Granger," he said, a twinkle of merriment in his otherwise cold eyes. "You like my hair all shaggy and loose – all right. I'll take your advice. The hair stays like this, since you like it so much..." Without warning, he strode over to her swiftly and pressed her up against the wall, his face inches from hers, his hands on either side of her head, penning her in. She breathed heavily with surprise. "Granger's feeling tingly, hot, bothered, excited…" He counted off all that Hermione was feeling at that moment with an astonishing accuracy that humiliated her.

"Sod off, Malfoy, I'd rather die than feel any of that for the most loathsome creature alive." Her voice sounded confident, but her irregular heartbeat betrayed her. He did not seem insecure at all. Hermione's face turned an even deeper shade of red when he suddenly smirked, stepped away from her, and held up a long, thin piece of wood.

"My, my, Granger, your defenses are really failing you, aren't they?" His smirk widened as she snatched her wand from him, cursed herself inwardly for not having noticed, and fled to her room, where she threw on her robes, grabbed her book bag, and ran out of the dorm. As the portrait closed behind her, she heard him calling out after her.

"By the way, Granger, stop hiding that body under those robes! Oh, and I like the straight hair!"

She ran faster.

Two weeks passed in this manner. Draco would stay in the room all the time, whiling his time away with books (yes, books!), while Hermione, growing less and less wary of him, went to class and engaged in social activities as usual. No one besides the two of them even dreamed that there was a person who was living in the Head Boy's room; Hermione had put up a sign on the door that said 'Not In Use,' which satisfied Ginny and a couple of other girlfriends, and she only hoped that McGonagall would never visit unexpectedly. In this way his safety was secured.

One particularly cold Thursday morning, she entered the Great Hall for breakfast and found, to her surprise, that foreign-looking students were lined up one by one in front of a long table at the end of the hall and that the line extended beyond the doors of the Hall. Curious, she sat down across from Ginny and asked her,

"What's going on? Who are these people?"

"They're Spanish students," Ginny replied, her mouth stuffed with toast. "Apparently Voldemort put an Imperius curse on their Headmaster and he started killing his students off until they put him away. Nobody over there is willing to take on the job after that dude, so they're seeking refuge at Hogwarts – or rather, what's left of them after the Headmaster was done with his massacre."

To Hermione's surprise, the students did not seem moody or depressed – what she might have expected of teenagers who had just survived a massacre – but spirited and eager. They were joking around with one another and peering around the Great Hall curiously, chattering excitedly about the enchanted ceiling (since they were pointing constantly at it) and generally seeming as if they were tourists.

"They don't seem to have a care in the world," Hermione told Ginny.

"Yeah, they're lining up to write down their names. Dean told me that their removal was so sudden that McGonagall didn't even have time to record their names, so they have to register themselves…if it hadn't been Voldemort and a massacre, the situation would be slightly funny."

"You're right," her best friend replied absent-mindedly, thinking of something else, a priceless opportunity if she seized it…

"I'm not hungry," she said abruptly, standing up from the table. "I'll go back and, uh, study before Ancient Runes."

"Cool," Ginny answered and kept on consuming her bacon and eggs.

A few minutes later –

"Malfoy! MALFOY!" she yelled as she climbed hastily through the portrait hole and almost crashed into the person she had been calling. "There you are!" she said, catching her breath and beaming.

"What's going on Granger?" Malfoy asked, taking in her dishevelled appearance: her curly hair was draped haphazardly over her shoulders, and her robes were – thrown off, as she flung them on the couch to cool herself off. Her face was flushed with excitement, and her eyes were shining brightly – _damn she's hot_, he thought to himself, and then promptly banished the idea. _I'm kidding myself_, he said to himself. _She's a stuffy bookworm that happens to have had a brain transplant in fashion, but a bookworm nonetheless_. He had no time, however, to pursue this train of thought, for she started spilling out a torrent of words that completely went past him for the first few seconds.

"…and you need to go down to the Great Hall right now and pretend you're Spanish!" concluded Hermione, still beaming, and folded her arms over her chest. Malfoy had no idea what she had been talking about; all he had understood was the last part about him pretending to be Spanish – what the hell? – and then he was distracted by her certainly well-developed cleavage that he could see over her rather low-cut blouse. _Shit, Draco, are you actually thinking about her cleavage? You must be mad or just too bored for your own good. _

"Uh-huh," he said. "What's that part about me pretending to be Spanish again? And while you're at it, tell me exactly what's going on, 'cause I didn't get it."

Hermione looked at him with exasperation written all over her face. "There's a group of Spanish kids down in the Great Hall and they're signing up for Hogwarts and nobody knows who they are so I'm telling you that this is the perfect time for you to go down and write your name down on the list and be – uh – legalized!"

"The famous Draco Malfoy pretending to be Spanish?" he asked, incredulous. "But that's horrible. My name has never been – "

"If you don't go down there right now and do what I say I will turn you in to McGonagall because I don't want to have to worry about people catching glimpses of you every moment of every day! So get your ass down there now!"

Malfoy was speechless. The little mud – no, he had to train himself not to think in those terms anymore – Granger had just told him flat-out what he needed to do! Uncannily, he felt an odd tingling at the thought, and lost no time in leaning forwards, just inches from her face, and whispering, "We'll see about my ass, Granger, in my own sweet time." Hermione shoved him away, and he laughed – he always enjoyed making a girl flushed.

"I hate you, and you hate me too, Malfoy," she told him coldly.

"Dead on, Granger," he replied, and they left for the Great Hall.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Draque

"Whoa, check that guy out," Ginny murmured, and Hermione, who had returned to the breakfast table after noting that her Ancient Runes class really did not need that much revision, made a disapproving face.

"Gin, you know that you're not over Harry yet," she said sternly; the redhead had confided her still-strong feelings towards her best friend to her a week ago.

"I know, but this hunk is the thing," her friend breathed, and Hermione, rolling her eyes, turned to see who she was gazing at – and almost fell out of her seat.

"Mal – marvellous, I mean!" She rapidly changed her exclamation, but Ginny was in no state to notice; her eyes were still glued to none other than Malfoy, who was striding to the register table at that very moment. His air was self-assured, and Hermione watched as he picked up the pen and, without pausing, wrote on the paper. _Shit_, she thought to herself suddenly. _He didn't put his real name down, did he?_ The movement had seemed too fluid, but Malfoy did not seem to have noticed as he strode over to the Gryffindor table straight for Hermione and inquired in 'flawless' broken English,

"May I zit down wiz you?"

Ginny almost melted (along with about a dozen other Gryffindor girls, including Parvati and Lavender), but instantly recuperated as she shot death glares are the other girls and a meaningful glance at her best friend that screamed "Don't you DARE turn him down." Hermione smiled weakly and motioned for him to sit down next to her, which he did promptly. Ginny immediately took over the entire conversation.

"What's your name?" she said sweetly and slowly, batting her eyelashes so that Hermione had trouble stopping herself from slapping her.

"My n-name?" Malfoy said with the expression of an unfamiliar foreign student. "Eet iz Draque. Just Draque."

"Draque is a nice name. I like it a lot…it fits you," Ginny said, and Draco smiled to himself. Was the Weasel's sister actually hitting on him? This was a moment not to be missed, but when he looked at Hermione, he saw her blushing at her friend's forwardness and flirtatious words. His grin widening, he carried on the conversation with Ginny while the brunette stared at her plate and felt oddly left out.

Since Draco, or Draque rather, had been the last person to register at the front table, McGonagall cleaned everything up with a swish of her wand and seized the roll of parchment with the names on it as it flew towards her. Then, she cleared her throat loudly and called for attention.

"We would like to welcome the Spanish students from the Wizarding Academy of Seville to Hogwarts. Let us all give them a round of applause for having the strength to make a long and arduous trip to England after their Headmaster was regrettably put under an Imperius curse by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

The hall burst into applause and cheers, after which McGonagall resumed her speech.

"Each of the Spanish students will select a partner from his or her own year and the two of you will go to the same classes. You are responsible for making your partner feel at home here, and I will expect best behavior from everyone at Hogwarts today and in the future." She gave the students a stern look. "Now you may obtain a partner and then I shall dismiss you to class."

Immediately, a flurry resulted, as some Spanish students were besieged with requests to be partners and some sat alone, looking dejected. Neville Longbottom, especially, turned bright red when an actually good-looking girl asked him to be her partner; he started stuttering uncontrollably and the girl moved away quickly. _That fathead_. But Draco had no time to mock Longbottom in his mind, for a horde of seventh-year girls from all four Houses immediately surrounded him, claiming him simultaneously as their partner. In the confusion, he noticed that Hermione's seat was empty; she had vanished. _Probably off to class already_, he thought, and smilingly picked a girl from the crowd randomly. It was Parvati Patil, and she almost fainted with delight at the choice while the others slinked away, disappointed. It was not until then that Draco noticed where Hermione was – she was standing at the Ravenclaw table with her back to him, talking to a dark-haired Spanish boy who was obviously enjoying her company. As he watched, the Spanish boy took her hand and kissed it while she laughed, and they set off out of the Great Hall. Draco tried to suppress a highly uncomfortable feeling that had arisen at the sight of Hermione and the other boy together. _You just can't believe that a girl would leave you to talk to someone else_, he thought to himself, and left the Hall with Parvati almost dragging him along at a delirious pace. He didn't bother to get rid of his first thought at seeing Hermione's back: _damn she has a nice butt_.

The first class that the Gryffindors had was Charms with the Ravenclaws, and the students filed into Professor Flitwick's classroom dutifully, sitting down in neat rows. Hermione, as usual took the first row, and her Spanish friend José sat down beside her. Two rows back, Draco Malfoy, aka Draque, sat down directly behind her, while Parvati, who was content with gabbling on about herself and congratulating herself on her luck at having him for a partner, took a seat beside him. Draco did not focus too well on Flitwick's lesson that morning; his attention was almost entirely spent in watching every move Hermione and José made. Five minutes before class ended, Hermione dropped her pen and bent down to get it while her friend did the same; their heads knocked together and they laughed, while she carelessly glanced to the back – and saw Draco's icy eyes boring into her. After class was dismissed, he took the extra care of bumping into her as she exited the classroom, but she did not even look at him.

Uncomfortable without knowing why, Draco did not enjoy the rest of his classes. Herbology with the Hufflepuffs proved to be a boon, for as they tried to evade the parachuting seeds of the All-Sprouting Dandelion, he 'accidentally' knocked a pot of the plant over on Parvati, who screamed continuously as dandelions spouted all over her body. Amid laughs and whoops, Professor Sprout told Draco to take Parvati to the hospital wing, since he had tipped the pot over. He decided to play the part of the new Spanish student.

"I do not know vere ze ozpital ving iz," he explained to the short, plump professor, who promptly said, "Hermione, dear, go and take Mr. Draque and Parvati to the hospital wing, will you?" Draco smiled. _Kill two birds with one stone_, he thought.

The moment they left Parvati with Madam Pomfrey and were in a deserted hallway, both of them stopped at the same time and apparently made up their minds to yell at each other simultaneously.

"Listen, Mal – "

"What's the deal – "

They stopped, fumed at each other for no reason at all, and then Draco started yelling again.

"That guy is an idiot!"

"You don't even know his name!"

"All I know is that he's a complete ass – haven't you seen how he smoothes his hair back every, like, two seconds? He's a complete fop – "

"Oh my god, _Draco Malfoy_ is calling somebody else a fop? If anybody is a self-satisfied ass, it's you, and you know it!"

"At least I'm more than qualified to possess an ego, unlike somebody whom you seem to like so much!"

"You're a pathetic, harebrained – "

She never got to finish her characterization of Draco, for in less time than she could say "quill," he had her pressed up against the wall, her arms pinned to either side of her, his face mere inches away from hers, and growled, staring into her flashing eyes,

"You got something to say, Granger?"

His low, husky voice sent chills coursing down Hermione's body, leaving behind hot trails that she did not understand. His bluish-gray eyes were burning into hers with a strange fury, making her hot and flustered; it was all strange, very strange; it was almost as if they were challenging each other to see who would give in to the tension first. It was then that she licked her lips almost unconsciously, and it was then that Draco snapped.

"Damn you, Granger," he whispered before crashing his lips to hers. Their mouths met with overwhelming fury and unlimited passion; immediately, his tongue sought entrance to her mouth, which she granted. Their tongues fought for dominance, earning moans from both, as Draco became increasingly aware of a certain discomfort in his nether regions. Minds wiped blank by pure lust, they kissed each other into delirium, and Draco moved his lips to her neck, nipping and sucking at her tender spots, leaving enormous hickeys, while she moaned and did the same. Grinding against her hard, he groaned with pleasure when she wrapped one leg around his waist and moved against him. When he started licking her earlobe, though, it suddenly hit him: _he was making out with Hermione Granger._

The thought smashed into his brain with incredible force and he pushed her away roughly, backing up several steps and then staring at her. Her face was flushed, she was breathing heavily, and her lips were swollen from his kisses. _A goddess_…supporting herself against the wall, she stared back at him with her chocolate eyes, chest heaving, and Draco felt an almost overpowering desire to pin her back to the wall and ravage her. But no……

Hermione gathered herself and fled from him again.


End file.
